Heartbeat in Bloom

The city's roar is a ghost behind me, but here, the air tastes of salt and crushed jasmine. *Thump.* My pulse anchors me to the swing. I can still feel the phantom pressure of your hand on my shoulder—a lingering heat that refuses to dissipate.
Every petal brushing against my skin feels like a deliberate caress from the moonlight itself. My breath hitches, caught in the back of my throat as I look at you. It’s not just the way you smile; it’s the way your eyes seem to map out every secret I haven't dared to speak aloud. *Thump-thump.* The rhythm is accelerating, a frantic drumbeat against my ribs that defies logic.
I raise my hand in a small gesture of peace, but inside, there is a revolution. My skin prickles at the thought of you leaning closer, the space between us shrinking until it becomes electric. This isn't just an escape; it’s a reclamation. In this floral cradle, under the heavy velvet of the night, I am learning what it means to be seen—truly seen—and my heart is rewriting its entire code to accommodate you.

Editor: Heartbeat Monitor